


A Hazy Shade of Winter

by Zoelily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Holidays, Hunter Dean, M/M, Pagan cas, Tropes, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: THIS FIC IS ON TEMPORARY HIATUS DUE TO TIME CONSTRAINTS. IT HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED. THERE IS SO MUCH STORY TO TELL. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING AND STICKING WITH ME.When Dean Winchester finds himself stranded in a South Dakota snowstorm, coming across the cabin of a blue-eyed stranger not only saves his life, but changes it in ways he never would have expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a specific posting schedule for this story because I have a demanding job, but I'll try not to leave you hanging too long between updates. 
> 
> Thank you to the always supportive and ever helpful [MoniJune](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoniJune/pseuds/MoniJune) for her comma herding skills.

Dean hadn’t given much thought to the weather when he’d stormed out of Bobby’s kitchen in just his leather jacket and lace-up work boots.  Baby’s back tires had fishtailed a bit on the packed snow and dirt in the salvage yard; frozen solid after a cold, dry spell in Sioux Falls.  That was normal though, she was a solid, well-built girl, but she wasn’t really designed for winter driving.  Once out of town, Dean had hauled ass onto the Interstate, crammed his worn Bad Company tape into the deck with one good shove of his index finger, and with the volume cranked, let his foul mood out on the open road.  
  
For the first hour on I90, as Dean’s anger and frustration with his family still seethed through his veins, the road was clear - the clouds broody, smoky-grey and ominous, but the snow stayed away.  Even on Christmas Day, the transport trucks were busy hauling their loads across the state from East to West, but there were few cars.  People had families and loved ones.  Dean did too, hence the reason he was currently running as far from their judgemental faces as he could before he ran out of steam.   
  
The snow started to fall in large wet flakes during the second hour, splattering baby’s windshield with intricate patterns of water and ice that started to dissolve into huge droplets the second they touched the glass – no match for the impala’s well-maintained defroster.  By now Dean’s anger had simmered down to a low boil, matching the intermittence of the wiper blades as they stayed ahead of the slow falling crystals.  
  
Dean found an open Chevron station at the truck stop exit in Chamberlain and pulled in for gas.  After topping baby off, he flipped up his jacket collar against the chill wind and went inside to grab a coffee and something to stop the growl of his empty stomach.  Maybe he should’ve waited to have a righteous temper tantrum until after they’d eaten.   With a hot styrofoam cup of gas station swill, a dubious looking turkey sandwich, and hostess cherry pie, Dean continued on his way to…hell, he didn’t even know where; just away from Bobby, and Ellen, and Jo, and Sam, and the memories that consumed him and threatened to tear his family apart every damn year.  
  
It was during hour four that Dean really started to wonder about the wisdom of taking off in an ill-equipped car, in his current state of dress, in weather that was worsening as it got darker.  It was becoming more and more difficult to see the oncoming truck lights as the wipers struggled to keep up with the now quickly-falling snow.  Thankfully, the more snow that settled on the road, the easier it was to keep his baby’s tires from sliding on black ice, the fresh powder at least providing some much-needed traction.  
  
It was blizzarding full force and the snow was blowing in howling drifts across the almost deserted freeway when Dean finally made out an exit sign for State Hwy 16 to Hill City and crawled towards the off-ramp.  He needed to get off the Interstate and find someplace to wait out the storm.  He’d been on the road over five hours and his eyes were starting to see double from watching the snow coming at him, and they were burning from not blinking enough.  Headlights were rimmed with starbursts of pale golden light and his arms were locking from the strain of trying to keep the steering wheel straight.  
  
Maneuvering the winding exit was tricky and Dean let out a relieved breath when he found himself back on the even road again.  Hwy 16 was lined with tall evergreens which did an effective job of blocking some of the wind.  With the blowing snow reduced, Dean could see that there was a lot more of the white stuff piled up than he’d thought.  At least he didn’t think he was that far from town; there was the occasional mailbox at the side of the road indicating civilization, which was a good sign.  
  
Just as Dean was beginning to wonder if he should’ve just stayed at Bobby’s and tried to talk things out like the man he was supposed to be instead of pulling his patented Winchester disappearing act, he caught sight of two tiny glowing red dots in his peripheral vision.  They blinked in and out of the swirling snowflakes as Dean grabbed the wheel, readying himself for whatever evasive action he needed to take to avoid what he assumed was some kind of animal in or near his path.   
  
Dean’s eyes darted around, hyperaware that if he had to slam on his brakes, he would likely slide on whatever ice or packed snow was under the fresh powder on the deserted highway.  He had taken his foot off the gas and pumped the brakes gently as soon as he’d seen the animal’s eyes so he wasn’t going too fast at least.  Just then, the shadow of a full grown buck deer appeared not ten feet in front of the impala standing proudly in the center of the lane and Dean wasn’t left with any choice.  Braking wasn’t even an option, it was either hit the deer or hit the ditch, and Dean wasn’t hitting that deer!  He cranked the wheel as far as he could to the right and just hoped that he had enough time to get off the road.   
  
Dean braced himself for impact, not knowing if there was anything in the ditch that could cause trouble for him or his baby.  As the big, black car slid over the edge of the road, the bump of the front tires landing in the deep snow caused Dean to be jolted forward, only to get thrown back against his seat by the seat belt as a rush of snow came up at him over the front window, blinding him to anything ahead.  The sheer volume of snow was enough to wedge the heavy car in place and Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest as he glanced out of a tiny clear spot in the side window to see the deer leap off into the trees on the opposite side of the road.  
  
_Well good for him,_ Dean thought to himself, as he pondered his own less than ideal circumstances _.  I guess that’ll teach me for being such a stupid, fucking hothead and running off like a damn child.  Now, what the hell am I gonna do?_  
  
After a few good shoves Dean managed to drive a wedge between the car door and the snowdrift wide enough to squeeze himself through.  As soon as he stepped out, his foot sunk into snow almost up to his kneecap.  “Son of a bitch,” he cursed out loud – at himself for his poor clothing choices and at the damn deer for everything else.  With more effort than he had it in him to expend, Dean eventually managed to trudge up to the road, everything from mid-thigh down soaked through to the skin and turning numb.  Dean stomped his feet on the frozen ground in an attempt to dislodge the worst of the loose snow.  His feet were fucking frozen, dammit!  He pulled his cell out of his pocket and checked for service only to find the stupid thing was completely dead.  Yeah, cell service didn’t matter if you’d forgotten to check your battery before you took off in a fit of righteous anger.  Dean sighed.  Merry Fucking Christmas, Dean Winchester.

~~~

Castiel always felt a sense of accomplishment watching the snow shovel make that final swath across his narrow driveway.  Some of his rural neighbors preferred to use snow blowers for the heavy snow that was common in the South Dakota black hills, but Castiel liked the manual labor that kept him in shape and he was always thankful for any excuse to be outside in the elements, even in winter.  The snow was still falling in fat flakes, and he knew he’d be repeating the process in a few hours, but it was easier on his back to do it often than to try and move too much snow at once.  
  
Leaning the shovel against the side of the single car garage set just to the side of his modest log home, Castiel stuffed his mittened hands into the deep pockets of his parka and took advantage of the cleared driveway to walk down to the treeline of his property.  Living just outside of town gave Castiel the advantage of peace and quiet, which was never more evident than during a snowfall.  Glancing down the deserted highway, Castiel could just make out the blinking red and green Christmas lights of his nearest neighbors, a young family, no doubt just sitting down to eat their holiday meal.   
  
The wind had let up since earlier in the day and now that evening was settling in, the snow-covered pine trees loomed as shadows, sparkling in the soft glow from the porch lights.  The soft silence of falling snow filled Castiel with a sense of peace and he found himself tilting his face to the sky and offering a short prayer of thanks to both the Goddess and the Great Lakota Spirit for the beauty of his surroundings.  Castiel felt truly blessed to be able to live in tandem with nature.  He only hoped his small offerings of such simple things like food for the birds in winter and flowers for the bees in spring were enough to show his gratitude.  
  
Feeling the chill begin to seep through his parka, thoughts of his wood burning fireplace and the chicken stew he’d prepared in the slow cooker that morning drew Castiel towards the heat of the house.  His previous train of thought jogged his memory that he needed to refill the birdfeeders in the morning.  With the fresh snow, the winter dwellers in his trees would be relying on his generosity to keep from going hungry and he wasn’t about to let them down.  Stomping the excess snow off his boots on the porch so he didn’t track too much water on the brushed pine floors, Castiel made his way into the warmth of his home to the delicious smell of his supper cooking and the crackling sound of the logs behind the grate.  
  
Getting to the kitchen area of his open plan living area proved to be a challenge as Onyx and Jade wound their tails around his legs reminding him that they also wanted their supper and they weren’t about to patiently wait until Castiel got his own.  Barely making it to the pantry without tripping over an impatient cat, Castiel managed to scoop a half a cup of organic cat kibbles into each of their bowls before his beloved pets literally started to climb his pant legs.  
  
Castiel leaned back against the island in the centre of the kitchen and watched with amusement as Onyx shoved his entire face into his bowl and began feasting with gusto as if Castiel hadn’t just fed him that morning; in total contrast to Jade, who nibbled one piece of kibble at a time, looking up at Castiel between bites to make sure he hadn’t suddenly left her to fend off her greedy brother all by herself.  
  
Shaking his head in amusement at their antics, Castiel left his cats to their supper and went to go dish out his own.   Cutting off a couple of generous slices of the seed bread he’d made that morning and slathering them with butter, Castiel dished out a steaming bowl of stew and set both that and the bread on the island, pulling up a stool to sit and eat.  He had a ponderosa pine dining room set he’d spent many months working on, but he rarely used it.  It made a lovely centerpiece to separate his living room and kitchen, but it really was much too big for just one person.  The island worked just fine.  He blew gently across the top of his bowl and ran his soup spoon around the edge, ladling up his first bite.  As he swallowed down the thick, flavourful broth he gazed out the large windows at the snow covered world outside thinking of how beautiful it would all look in the morning when the light hit the snow-covered wonderland.

  
~~~

Dean trudged along the icy shoulder of the dark highway, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, his collar turned up and his shoulders hunched up against the cold.  The snow was still falling heavily in thick, wet flakes and he would give his right fucking arm for a hot cup of coffee and any place with heat.  He could see house lights not far up the road so that’s where he was headed.  He’d passed a few driveways since leaving his baby locked in the ditch, but no obvious lights, folks clearly away for the holidays. The place ahead looked promising, so he was hopeful for a phone at least.  What that would accomplish in a town the size of Hill City on Christmas Day he wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t just sit in the Impala and wait it out, so his options were pretty limited.  
  
The log cabin was set in a clearing surrounded by looming ponderosa pines.  It had a rustic wraparound porch and a small detached garaged set just to the side.  There were lights glowing brightly in the windows and the driveway had been recently shoveled, barely an inch of snow covering it.  All in all, it would be picturesque if Dean wasn’t starting to shiver from the inside out; his nose was running, his hair was frozen to his forehead, and he couldn’t feel his toes.  Thankful for the respite from walking in deep snow, Dean trekked down the driveway towards the little cabin.  He glanced over at the garage wondering if it was locked, then mentally smacked himself in the head.  He really was getting cold and desperate if he was thinking about waiting out the storm in there.   
  
The steps up to the porch had been recently cleared and salted and Dean was thankful.  He really was tired and just dragging one foot in front of the other was getting to be a chore.  As he made it slowly up the three wooden steps, clinging to the snowy railing, he could feel the dull ache in his jaw from trying to prevent his teeth from chattering.  His limbs felt heavy and cumbersome and it was a struggle to propel himself forward to the door.   
  
When he did finally make it, Dean had to stop for a moment to lean against the oak frame.  He looked around at the eclectic amalgamation of odd things hanging around the beautiful porch.  Strings of popcorn, dried fruit and seeds hung in place of Christmas lights.  Glass mason jars stuffed with dried herbs and flowers glittered against the snowy night propped up against woven baskets filled with berries and twigs.  There were pouches tied with brightly-colored ribbons hanging from the corners of the railings, and a huge wreath on the heavy front door.  Dean did a double take as soon as he saw it – a perfect circle of pine boughs, in the center of which was a pentacle tied with red ribbon.  Dean knew a Yule wreath when he saw one, what he didn’t know was whether the person in this unassuming little cabin was a harmless Pagan or Wiccan, or whether he was about to ask for help from a fucking Witch!  He really hated witches.  
  
Dean could feel himself losing focus.  Witch or not, if he didn’t get somewhere warm soon it wasn’t gonna matter anyway.  Gathering the last of his energy, he used the side of his fist to thump on the solid door, the jarring movement causing sharp pains through his frozen fingers.   
  
“Just a moment,” was the response from a deep voice.  Dean could just hear the scraping of a chair over the chattering of his teeth.

Moments later, the door opened a tiny crack and the most striking blue eyes Dean had ever seen poked curiously around the door.  The stranger’s eyes popped open when they set on Dean, shaking and barely able to stand in the doorway.  The door opened the rest of the way and the man with the deep voice ushered Dean into the cabin with a gentle guiding touch to his arm.  His voice washed over Dean when he spoke.  
  
“I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve come to my home, but you need to get out of those clothes before you die from hypothermia.”  
  
The last thing Dean remembered feeling was warmth.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took to get this chapter up. What started as a little holiday story has changed focus and the idea has grown, so this has now become a full fledged WIP. (I also got the flu in there somewhere). The next chapter won't take as long, I promise. I can't post on a specific schedule because of work, but I'll try not to take too long between updates.

It had been almost thirty-six hours since Castiel’s quiet existence had been shattered by the arrival of the stranger – twenty-nine-year-old Dean Winchester, according to his Kansas driver’s license.  Castiel had struggled to haul the man to his overstuffed couch after he’d passed out cold just inside Castiel’s front door a day and a half ago.  Castiel realized the bed might have been the more comfortable choice, but it was further away and keeping Dean in the main part of the house would make it easier for Castiel to keep an eye on him anyway.  
  
He’d hastily stripped Dean of his ice-cold, wet clothes, and quickly redressed him in some soft fleece pajama pants and an old wool sweater Castiel had dug from the bottom of his dresser.  Dean’s skin was chilled and clammy to the touch, but once the soaked clothes were off, he’d at least stopped shivering.  After Castiel wrapped Dean in the wool blankets he’d set in front of the fire to warm, all he’d been able to do was wait it out for however long it took for Dean’s body temperature to rise.  Castiel hadn’t seen any indications of frostbite, thank the Goddess.  Although he had a rudimentary knowledge of herbal and Lakota medicines, Castiel was relieved he didn’t have to put them to use on a complete stranger.  
  
When by morning, after a restless sleep on the too-short loveseat, Castiel had woken to find Dean still completely out, he’d begun to worry.  To make matter’s worse, the snow hadn’t stopped falling overnight and the drifts outside were higher than Castiel had seen in years.  The possibility of getting his guest to the small medical clinic in town was basically nil.  Dean’s forehead had been hot and dry to the touch, clearly burning up with fever.  When Castiel had wiped Dean’s flushed, heated skin with a cool, damp washcloth, Dean’s head shifted as he groaned at the contact and relief flooded Castiel’s anxious mind.  At least the man was finally conscious.   
  
Now here it was, the following morning, and Castiel felt like all he’d done for the past twenty-four hours was try to keep Dean’s fever down and listen to him cough.  The man had been semi-awake on and off, babbling nonsensical things about Sam, Bobby, Dad, monsters, Mom, ‘the life’, his car.  He’d sounded resolute, sad, and exhausted.  Castiel’s empathic nature had been haunting him just listening, and he’d had to brew himself a pot of his own-recipe pain relief tea, along with the fever tea he’d been making for Dean, just to stave off the headache that kept starting between his eyes.  Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Dean’s fever had finally broken and he’d settled into a restless, but blissfully silent sleep.  Castiel had deemed it safe enough to escape to his own room to catch a few hours of much-needed rest.  He woke with the light every morning, his internal clock long since set to the changing seasons, so he resigned himself to the fact that he’d be back up to check on his guest within a short time anyway.  
  
Castiel padded over in his socked feet to stand in front of one of his giant windows, intentionally designed and crafted to allow him to still feel connected to his natural surroundings.  He’d given up on shoveling sometime the day before.  Every time he made any progress, the snow and wind would pick up and cover everything again within minutes.  It was an incredible sight, really – the snow was still falling in fat, clustered flakes and the familiar landscape was completely altered from the drifted peaks and valleys.  The power harnessed by the Lakota Gods and Goddesses was an impressive display when teamed with that of Mother Nature.  Castiel would forever be in awe of earth’s magnificence.  Onyx and Jade seemed similarly impressed; both perched on their cat tree in the center of the frosted pane of glass looking out at the mesmerizing scene.  Neither seemed to be in a rush to get to the breakfast Castiel was no doubt about to dish out.  
  
Turning back to Dean, Castiel was satisfied to see the man still sleeping soundly.  Reaching the desperation point for caffeine, he went about his usual morning routine.  By the time he filled the cat's food dishes and hung a couple of cranberry and oat cereal strings on the pine hook just outside the kitchen window for the few birds still hanging around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the whole house.  Castiel grabbed his favorite orange ceramic mug, the one his friend Daphne at the store had made him, and started to fill it.  
  
“Is that coffee I smell?”  
  
Castiel had to jump back to stop the scalding liquid from running into his chest.   He took a few deep breaths to calm himself while the hot liquid pooled on the counter.    
  
“Shit.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” came the voice again, scratchy from lack of use and coughing.  “Um, so yeah, is that coffee for drinking or wearing?”  
  
Castiel snapped out it and grabbed a wad of paper towel from the wood dowel dispenser on the counter.  He made quick work of the spilled coffee before finally turning to see Dean propped up on his elbows with the blanket pooled around his middle.  “How about a glass of water to start and we’ll work you up to the hard stuff, okay?  You haven’t had anything in your system in almost two days.”  If he wasn’t so nervous about what to say to this complete stranger who he’d just finished nursing back to health, Castiel would probably laugh at the ridiculous pout on Dean’s face.  The look of confusion was unmistakable as well.    
  
“Two days?  What the hell?”  
  
Castiel pulled a glass down from the brushed pine cabinet.  He turned on the faucet and held his fingers under the water, waiting for the stream to be cold enough to soothe Dean’s rough throat.  “You came to my door the evening before last and practically passed out in my entryway.  I got you to the couch but then you spiked a fever.”  The water felt pretty good.  He filled the glass most of the way and took it over to Dean, holding it out for the man to take.  “I’ve just been trying to keep you cool and waiting for you to wake up.”  
  
“Who are you?  And where am I, I guess?”  Dean asked, before lifting the glass to his chapped lips and taking a careful sip.  Castiel could see his fingers gripping the glass tightly and the tremor in his hand was obvious.    
  
“Uh, my name is Castiel.  Welcome to my home.  We’re just a few miles outside of Hill City, South Dakota.”  Castiel thought it better not to mention he’d snooped in Dean’s things and already knew his name, address, and birthdate.  “And you are?”  
  
Dean took a slightly bigger sip of the water before setting the glass on the floor beside the couch.  “Oh yeah, I’m Dean.  Dean Winchester.  Um, thanks for doing this, man.  Taking me in like this.  Hell, I could’ve frozen to death out there.”  
  
“You very nearly did,” Castiel replied, before settling onto the love seat and tucking his feet underneath his legs.  “You were in pretty rough shape.  How long were you out there?  And why?  You certainly weren’t dressed for the weather.”  
  
Dean’s whole body appeared to shiver as he pulled the blanket up to his neck and burrowed himself further into the couch cushions.  Castiel didn’t know if it was his question that caused Dean’s physical reaction or the visceral memory of being stuck outside in the damp cold for so long.  
  
“My car slid off the road and plowed straight into a snowbank.  No way was she going anywhere so I was stuck walking until I could, at least, find a phone.  Battery was completely dead in mine.   Seems like I trudged through that snow forever, but it probably wasn’t all that long.  Your place was the only one with any sign of life,” Dean said with a deep sigh.  “I’m sorry if I fucked up your Christmas.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Castiel said with a soft smile.  I don’t celebrate Christmas in the traditional way anyway.  I was just sitting down to have some supper when you knocked.”  
  
Dean nodded.  “Well I, for one, am glad you were home.  I was a human popsicle by the time I saw your lights were on.”  
  
“I’m no expert, but I recognize hypothermia when I see it.  When you started burning up I got worried.  I would’ve taken you to the health clinic in town if it weren’t for the storm.”  Castiel glanced outside again, knowing nothing would’ve changed since the last time he looked.  They were effectively snowed in until it let up enough for the plows to get out on the roads and for Castiel to tackle the driveway.  He watched Dean struggle to shuffle his body around to face the window, taking in the look of shock when his guest saw the sheer amount of snow that had piled up, and the rate at which it was still falling.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean said, followed by a deep rattling cough that made Castiel’s lungs hurt just listening to it.  
 

~~~

  
Dean’s lungs burned by the time the coughing finally slowed and he willed his breathing to regulate.  His ribs ached, and there was a throbbing pain right in the center of his forehead that hadn’t been there before.  He bent over the edge of the couch to reach for the water glass, sudden dizziness reminding him that, yeah, he was definitely feeling pretty shitty.  The cool water was a soothing balm on his raw throat and Dean had to stop himself from gulping the refreshing liquid – instead taking small sips while watching the swirling snowflakes add to the rising drifts outside.  
  
“That’s a fuck tonne of snow,” Dean said, finally finding his voice again.  “Guess I’m not getting back to my baby until it lets up some.”  He hated the idea of the only thing of value he owned being left in a ditch on a deserted highway.  “She’s gonna be pissed.”  
  
“Your girlfriend?” Castiel asked.  “Surely she’ll just be relieved you weren’t hurt, Dean.”  The look of annoyance on Castiel’s face, on Dean’s behalf, was kind of cute.  “It’s not as if you control the weather.”  
  
Dean had to chuckle at Castiel’s misunderstanding and his unorthodox reaction caused Castiel’s eyebrows to knit together.  Dean put him out of his misery.  “Baby is my car.  Black, mint ’67 Impala; used to be my Dad’s.  She and I have been through a lot together.”  
  
The grin that broke across Castiel’s previously serious face was really something.  The wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed and new ones formed at the corners of his bright blue eyes – eyes that shone with delight at something Dean had said.  Dean had barely known the man a few minutes and he already vowed he needed to make that smile happen again.    
  
Castiel uncurled himself from the loveseat and pulled himself to standing, stretching his arms slowly above his head.  Dean half expected him to start purring, the movement was so cat-like.  Just as that thought entered his head, a sleek black cat with bright blue eyes wound its way around Castiel’s legs and he reached down to run a hand along its shiny back.  “I think it’s fair to say, your ‘Baby’ is going to have to try and manage a few days without you,” Castiel murmured, scratching the cat between the ears while it rubbed its head adoringly against his ankle.  “I think she’ll forgive you.”   
  
“Hope so,” Dean grumbled. “She can be finicky.”  Dean watched the black cat still melting against Castiel.  “What’s the cat’s name?”    
  
“This one is Onyx.  He can be a bit greedy – for food, affection, you name it.”  
  
“You have more than one?” Dean wondered aloud, turning his head to see if he could see any other balls of fur lying around.  He had a mild cat allergy which didn’t seem to be bothering him, but then again, he felt crappy enough he probably wouldn’t notice.  
  
“Just one other,” Castiel said.  “Jade is a little shyer until she warms up to you, but once she does, she’ll be your lap cat for eternity.”  Castiel made his way over and held out his hand for Dean’s water glass which Dean handed over.  “I don’t think you’re quite ready for coffee, but how about some tea?  It will soothe your throat and help your cough.”  
  
Dean scrunched up his face.  Ellen made him tea sometimes and he only finished it to be polite.  Castiel must’ve caught the unimpressed look because he arched his own eyebrow in return.  “Don’t knock my tea until to try it.  Besides, it really will help.  I promise.”  
  
Dean nodded; unable to say no when the caring man had done so much for him already.  Castiel didn’t know him from a hill of beans, and yet, he’d already let him crash in his home for pushing two days and he still wasn’t kicking him out the door even now that he was awake.  Dean was in no position to be picky.  
  
The tea actually didn’t smell bad.  When Dean held the steaming mug under his nose after Castiel carefully handed it to him handle-first, he could make out scents of licorice and peppermint.  “What kind of tea _is_ this?” Dean asked, his familiarity with the beverage only going as far as Ellen’s tin of Earl Grey, of which he wasn’t a fan.  
  
“It has peppermint, ginger, licorice root, and sage,” Castiel replied, his familiarity with, and knowledge of, his subject obvious.  “Of course, I added some lemon and honey as well.  I always make it for myself if I have a cold.”  
  
Dean blew over the top of the mug and inhaled the aromatic steam as it circled back to him.  He had to admit, even just that little bit of gentle warmth on his face and airway felt amazing.  He took a careful sip and sighed as the tangy and sweet liquid melted down his throat, the peppermint and ginger leaving just a slight bite in its wake.  He took a larger sip and let the tea settle on his taste buds.  “It’s actually pretty good,” Dean admitted.  “Might turn me into a tea granny after all,” he said with a chuckle.  
  
“Well while you work through that, I’ll make us some breakfast,” Castiel said with a smile, clearly pleased.   
  
Dean’s stomach lurched at the thought of food.  The idea didn’t repel him, exactly – there were definite hunger pangs there, but…  
  
“Don’t worry,” Castiel interrupted his thoughts.  “A couple of slices of toast with peach preserves should settle okay.  I don’t think you’re up for steak and eggs just yet.”  
  
“I guess my face betrayed me, huh?” Dean said, brushing his hair back with his hand as he tried to cover his discomfort.  “Can I have a rain check on the steak?”  
  
“How about for dinner, if you have the appetite?”   
  
Dean laughed, barely stopping himself from coughing again by taking a hurried sip of his tea.  He swallowed a couple of times before answering to make sure the tickle was completely gone.  “My appetite is pretty legendary most of the time.  I can out eat Sam and he’s a giant.”  
  
“And Sam is?”  
  
“My little brother,” Dean answered.  “Not that he’s so little these days.  Mr. Big Shot Lawyer has a good four inches on me and I’m not exactly tiny.”  
  
Dean hadn’t meant to bring up his family, even in such a non-consequential way.  He didn’t know anything about Castiel other than that he was obviously very kind, but something about the way he looked at Dean when he spoke – the way he focused his too blue eyes on Dean and really listened;  sounding interested and engaged in what Dean had to say, made Dean want to tell him more.  For the moment, for his own sense of self-preservation, he just shut up.  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes.  “Having dragged your dead weight from my front door to my couch, I can attest to the fact that you’re far from tiny, Dean.”  
  
If Dean were feeling more like his normal, wise-cracking self, he would have a sexual innuendo or at least some kind of self-serving, snappy comeback for that.  Castiel had to know he had walked right into it, but he didn’t appear to have any reaction other than his trademark confused stare to Dean’s cocky smirk.  Dean wasn’t exactly full of himself or anything, but getting no response at all to his flirtatious charm was definitely new.  A yawn grabbed at his jawline and pulled him in before he could come up with a reply.  
  
“I’m going to make us some toast before you fall back asleep,” Castiel mumbled, turning towards the kitchen.  
  
Dean nodded.  Between the soothing heat of the tea and the repetitive pattern of falling snow, Dean could feel the tug of unconsciousness trying to pull him under again.  It was an odd sensation to feel safe and warm.  He didn’t lead a life where he was ever in one place for long.  Never long enough to connect.  Relationships were liabilities anyway, his parents were proof of that.  Feeling safe, feeling cared for, feeling warm and unrushed, was a novelty.  Dean’s eyes fluttered open when a smoky grey cat, with dark green eyes the color of dew-covered pine trees, hopped on the couch and curled up in front of him.  He felt the warmth of Jade’s body heat permeate the blankets and her purr rumble through his chest.  Dean never did get his toast.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a wait again for this one. I do hope to pick up speed and get into a bit of a posting schedule. My job is a bit demanding though so finding writing time is HARD! Enjoy our boys getting to know each other.

Castiel sat at the kitchen counter and nibbled on Dean’s cold toast.  The peach preserves he’d put up in the fall were delicious, but they were a long way from making his makeshift breakfast as palatable as they usually would.   He was fighting a low-grade headache again, so he filled his electric kettle and pulled down the jar of herbs with the black lid.   After brewing his tea and finally making it through the toast, Castiel took his mug into the living room and curled up on the loveseat.  He stared at his, normally shy and reserved, soft grey cat.  Jade was a love, but she was skittish around anyone but Castiel, and now, apparently Dean Winchester.  He’d never seen her warm up to anyone so quickly. 

 

What was it about this stranger that had just dropped into his life?  Castiel knew he should be wary; he was an intelligent man – well aware of the position he’d put himself in by inviting an unknown man into his home, even if Dean had been sick and near-helpless at the time.  Castiel glanced over at Jade again, noticing the way her face was buried into the small nook just under Dean’s chin and her sleek grey tail was wrapped possessively around Dean’s forearm as though she were trying to hold him close.  Castiel trusted Dean.  He didn’t know why, or what was causing him to toss caution to the wind, but even Jade had tapped into the same sense of safety and goodness surrounding him.  Maybe Castiel was crazy, but he just didn’t feel any sense of wrongness in what he was doing. 

 

As Castiel sipped his tea, he considered what to do.  Dean was clearly still unwell, even if he seemed stubborn enough to think otherwise.  The snow wasn’t letting up, meaning the man was stuck here anyway for at least the foreseeable future, sick or not.  Castiel considered what he had for supplies.  Knowing the stores in town would be closed for the holidays, he had stocked up on perishables the day before Dean had shown up, and he always kept a good supply of dry goods in the pantry.  His herb supply was well stocked, so if Dean’s health didn’t improve, Castiel would be able to brew something to help with fever and congestion.  He had candles and plenty of firewood if they lost power. Castiel noticed his headache had abated some, likely from a combination of the valerian and fennel in the tea and the realization that he was well prepared to wait out the storm.

 

The next time Dean woke, Castiel could tell by the heightened color in his cheeks and brightness in his eyes that Dean was feeling a great deal better.  The first words out of Dean’s mouth solidified Castiel’s opinion.

 

“Hey, Cas.  Can you point me to where I can take a leak and maybe clean up some?” 

 

Castiel blinked once at the shortening of his name but instantly decided he didn’t mind it.  If anything, he was surprised no one had thought to give him the moniker before.  Castiel was a mouthful, after all.   He watched unsurprised as Dean ran his tongue over his teeth.  “Do you have a toothbrush I could maybe borrow?” Dean asked with a disgusted frown.  “Feels like an army of dust bunnies are camping out in my mouth.”  Castiel had to smile at Dean’s colorful way of describing things but nodded anyway.  They both stood at the same time; well Castiel stood, and Dean kind of swayed as he pushed his way weakly to his feet.  Castiel dashed forward to help but was instantly thwarted when Dean held out his palms in protest.

 

“I got this, Cas.  Thanks, though.”

 

Castiel could see the determination in Dean’s features, the crease in his brow as he worked to steady his weak and tired body into some semblance of normalcy and forced his limbs to follow his mind’s direction.  Cas turned and walked down the short hall to his only bathroom, keeping his head turned to make sure Dean was right behind him.

 

Dean followed steadily but slowly, and Cas didn’t miss it when he grabbed onto the pedestal sink like a lifeline when they made it the few steps to the big bright bathroom Cas had designed himself.  He pulled a new toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet and a fluffy washcloth and towel from the pine shelving unit beside the sink.  “These should work for you,” Castiel said, wondering if Dean wanted a shower or just to clean up a bit.  “I think you should probably wait for a shower until you’ve at least had something to eat,” Castiel finally mumbled, worried about having to haul a naked, injured Dean out of his shower stall.  “A bath might be a nice idea later.”

 

Dean nodded, obviously agreeing with Castiel.  “I’m good for now,” he replied, taking the proffered items from Castiel and making his way over to sit on the toilet seat. 

 

Castiel backed up to the door.  “There’s toothpaste on the shelf beside the sink.  Soap too,” he said and turned to leave Dean in peace.

 

~~~

  
  


Dean heard the door click closed and let out a sigh. Other than the lack of energy, he felt pretty good considering, and he really hated having to rely on Castiel to help him. He berated himself for brushing Cas off.  He didn’t mean to come off as an asshole, so he hoped Cas hadn’t taken offense.  He seemed like a decent dude and so far, no sign of witchiness.

 

He took care of business and then fumbled his way to the sink.  It was evident by how much it took out of him that he really needed to eat something.  Dean stood with one hand braced on the gleaming white porcelain and took in his surroundings.  Even in the short time he’d been awake earlier, he’d picked up on the simple, yet clearly high-quality furniture and finishes in Castiel’s house.  That was just as evident in the bathroom, where Dean could easily imagine soaking his tired muscles in the huge clawfoot tub, or standing indefinitely in the river rock shower that Dean could plainly see through the clear plate-glass doors.  The man had awesome taste.

 

The sudden and intense protest from his stomach reminded him that eating was his priority, so he turned back towards the mirror mounted above the sink.  It too was a masterpiece – artfully carved from ponderosa pine, once again, and it was truly stunning.  Someone had obviously taken the time to meticulously hand carve the floral design that wound its way around the outside of the oval holding the mirror in place.  Dispersed between the near-perfect replicas of sunflowers and lavender, there were birds and honey bees, some feeding, some mid-flight.  Dean was in awe at the time and talent that must have gone into such a beautiful piece of work.  He resolved to ask Cas about it later as he made fast work of scrubbing two days of “ick” from his teeth.

 

Cas was standing at the kitchen counter when Dean finally made his way back to the living area.  Dean took one look at the couch on which he’d spent the past two days alternately sweating and shivering and decided on one of the stools at the kitchen island instead.

 

“Hey, Cas,” he said, once he got himself seated and spun to face Cas, one elbow on the counter to prop himself up.  “Something smells good.”

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, in his usual gentle, low rumble.  Dean was pleased to hear nothing seemed amiss.  “Do you feel a little better?”

 

“Yeah.  It’s amazing what a little warm water and toothpaste will do for a guy.”

 

Dean watched with interest as Cas turned back to the counter and ladled something steaming from a pot on the stove into a couple of large ceramic bowls with handles, then pulled a loaf of clearly homemade bread from a wooden breadbox Dean hadn’t noticed before.  He mumbled to Dean as he grabbed a long serrated knifed and sliced through the bread with practiced ease.  “Since it’s closer to lunch than breakfast now, I thought I’d heat up some of the leftover chicken stew from my supper the other night.” 

 

Dean’s gut growled in agreement, loud enough for Cas to hear from across the kitchen.  “Apparently your stomach is on board with that?” Cas asked, with a tentative smirk.

 

Now actually presented with the thought of hot food, Dean was suddenly famished.  “Gotta admit, it does sound like a great plan,” he said enthusiastically while Cas placed a steaming bowl in front of him and handed him a spoon.  That was quickly followed by a plate with two thick slices of crusty bread, slathered with butter.  “This looks great,” Dean said honestly.  “Thanks, Cas.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Cas replied, carefully balancing his own bowl and plate as he pulled out the stool to sit beside Dean.  “It’s a pleasant change to have company for a meal.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but catch a hint of loneliness in Cas’ voice.  “Don’t get many visitors?” he asked while stirring his spoon through the stew, eagerly anticipating the warmth of the thick aromatic broth and chunks of chicken and potatoes. 

 

Cas shook his head.  “Not really.  I live pretty out of the way for most of the people I know in town to just drop by.”

 

Dean glanced around the room again, unable to ignore the pull of the view from the windows, the snow-covered evergreens and almost dreamlike wonder of a world blanketed in white.  It was like a scene from a Christmas card come to life.  “I can see why you live out here though.  It’s beautiful.”

 

Cas swallowed around the bite of food in his mouth and nodded.  “Yes.  I did choose the location for its seclusion as well as its natural beauty.”  He lowered his eyes, nerves maybe, Dean wasn’t sure.  “I feel the most like myself when I’m connected to nature, when I can feel the strength of the Goddess and the Lakota spirits’ guidance,” Cas finished, looking over at Dean.

 

Taking in Cas’ words, Dean considered his first assumption when he’d seen the wreath hanging on the front door.  Castiel didn’t strike him as a witch though, just a man whose ideals and sense of self was deeply and spiritually ingrained in Pagan and Native American beliefs.  Dean couldn’t find fault with that.  There were more than a few times he wished he could just put his trust in a something spiritual instead of always carrying the burden himself.  He shook his head, realizing Cas was expecting him to speak, likely even a little on edge awaiting Dean’s reaction to his little confession.

 

“I think that’s great.  That you find peace in that, I mean,” Dean stumbled on his words, unsure how to even discuss things like religion and spirituality beyond “it’s using ritual magic to kill people so we have to gank it, now!”  He’d clearly said the right thing though as he watched the small smile tweak at the corners of Castiel’s mouth.  Dean figured he was safe to keep going and he was definitely curious.  “Have you always been, uh…?”

 

“Pagan,” Cas answered, helpfully.  “Unless you were gonna ask me if I’ve always been socially inept, or fond of honeybees.”

 

“Honeybees?” Dean asked, wide-eyed and thrilled to see the gummy smile beaming across Cas’ face, tugging his angled cheekbones up enough to cause perfect smile lines.  Cas was a man who should smile all the time. 

 

“Well look, you’ve discovered two things about me, and you’ve barely tasted your lunch.”

 

Dean laughed and scooped up a large spoonful of stew.  He blew over the top a couple of times, inhaling the tempting scents of sage, rosemary, and garlic before finally sliding the spoon into his mouth.  Dean had been expecting the food to be good, the smell had given that away, but he hadn’t been prepared for the explosion of flavor that overwhelmed his senses.  He hurriedly took another bite, suddenly ravenous for the chunks of tender chicken, red skinned potatoes, and super sweet carrots.  It seemed like such a simple thing, but Dean couldn’t get enough.

 

“Cas, this is amazing,” Dean managed to mumble between spoonfuls of stew and large bites of buttered bread.  “I may never leave if this is the five-star food service I’ll be getting at this B&B.”  The blush that rose on Cas’ cheeks was nothing short of adorable.  Dean could only assume the man wasn’t used to receiving compliments. 

 

“Uh, thank you.  I can assure you, the meals I prepare are nothing special, they’re just what I like, made from scratch.  I like to cook.”

 

“Well, it shows.  You’re good at it,” Dean said, using the final piece of crust to mop the rich gravy left at the bottom of the bowl.  “My brain is telling me to ask you if there’s more, but my stomach is reminding me I haven’t eaten in a couple of days and I better take it easy.”

 

“I think your stomach has the right idea in this instance,” Cas agreed with a chuckle, shuffling off the stool and scooping up their dishes.  “How’s your coffee, Dean?  Do you want some more?”

 

Dean shook his head.  He still had half a cup, and he wasn’t kidding about what he’d told Cas.  He really didn’t want to overdo it.  He felt fine, but he knew from experience that it wouldn’t take much to tip that fine balance in the opposite direction.  

 

Dean sipped at his now lukewarm coffee and watched Cas load their plates and bowls into the dishwasher and wipe down the counter.  The man hummed as he moved with practiced ease around the kitchen, like someone who felt completely comfortable in their environment.  Dean didn’t mind cooking, and he was surprisingly good at it, mostly out of necessity, but he’d never had a kitchen of his own.  With a hint of wistfulness that surprised him, he realized the only kitchen he’d ever cooked in more than once or twice was Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen’s.

 

~~~

 

Castiel found himself smiling as he loaded the dishwasher.  Dean had clearly relished his meal, and he was proving to be someone Castiel very much enjoyed talking to.  He was looking forward to opening up their conversation.  So far, Castiel knew almost nothing about Dean, and what he had learned wasn’t from Dean telling him.  Castiel was hoping to change that since they were stuck together for a while.  After giving the countertops a cursory wipe, he hung the rag over the faucet and turned to see Dean slowly sipping his coffee looking lost in thought.  Castiel took advantage the moment to admire his guest.  Even when he’d been nursing Dean through a fever, he hadn’t been immune to the fact that Dean was an exceptionally good-looking man.  His eyes, even glazed and delirious with fever, were an intense muddle of greens that Castiel couldn’t begin to describe, his face was covered with a fine smattering of freckles that just highlighted his attractiveness, and Castiel had seen enough of Dean’s well-maintained body when he’d changed his clothes to know the man was toned without being all hard muscle.  Castiel didn’t often find himself instantly attracted to someone from their looks alone, but he had to admit, Dean had his heart beating a little faster than usual.  Mentally smacking himself for ogling his guest, Castiel considered what he had in the way of things to occupy their time.  He had no idea what Dean liked to do.  Castiel didn’t have cable, or a video game console, although he did have a limited selection of DVDs; he had plenty of books, some puzzles, playing cards, and a few board games too.  Eventually, he would need to get some work done for the store, but that could hold for now.  Hesitant to interrupt Dean’s thoughts, but fearful of leaving his guest without entertainment, Castiel cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention.  Dean jumped slightly at the sound but turned to Castiel with an expectant smile.

 

“Since it looks like we have some time to kill, is there anything, in particular, you’d like to do?” Castiel asked.  “I’m not much used to having company, so I regret it may be a bit boring here.”

 

Dean smacked his palms on his knees and grinned.  “Well, what do you usually do for fun, Cas?”

 

Castiel was taken aback by having the question turned back on him.  What did he do for fun?  Mostly he worked on stuff to take to  _ Herbs of a Feather _ , but he enjoyed it enough that it rarely seemed like work.  He did enjoy reading, cooking, watching documentaries from the library, gardening, his bees, of course, and playing with Onyx and Jade.  He glanced at Dean, who was clearly waiting for an answer.  “I sometimes read, or watch DVDs; often I work on things I sell at me and my friend Charlie’s store.”  Castiel lifted his eyebrow, almost daring Dean to ask, knowing he would anyway.

 

If the way he leaned in and lifted his eyebrows was any indication, Dean was genuinely interested when he asked.  “What kinds of things?  What kind of store is it? Uh…,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  “That is if you’re cool with telling me.”

 

“Of course,” Castiel said, pleased that Dean wanted to know more about his work.  “Actually, it would probably be easier just to show you.” 

 

Castiel waited for Dean to climb down from the stool.  It was obvious his new friend was still feeling weak.  There was a deliberateness to his movements that Castiel was certain wasn’t a usual part of Dean’s gait.  Dean struck him as a man that would move with a sense of purpose and grace.  Once Dean had both feet firmly planted on the wood floor, Castiel led him down the hall to his studio.

 

The master bedroom turned workspace was Castiel’s favorite place in his modest home.  He’d intentionally taken a smaller room for sleeping so that he could create this large, bright space to work.  Not only was it the biggest room in the house, it had the best morning light and French doors that opened out to a huge custom deck.  Castiel had spared nothing on this part of this house when he’d worked with the builders.  The deck, crafted in the same interlocking log style as the house itself, had two levels, the second of which was actually built into the ponderosa pines that surrounded Castiel’s home.  Castiel loved to spend his early mornings with a cup of coffee or tea, watching the forest wake up around him. 

 

Castiel’s thoughts drifted back to Dean standing beside him and took in the room as the other man would; brightly colored murals covering the walls, painted by Castiel himself, occasionally with a little of Charlie’s added whimsical flair.  The pictures were mostly animals, some in their common form, while others as spirits or angels.  The backgrounds morphed seamlessly from pine forests and snow-covered mountains to crystal lakes and fields of wildflowers.  In every square inch of ceiling, there were clouds, bees, birds, and butterflies, but they coexisted peacefully with angels and dragons and giant eagles with dragon wings.  Castiel was immensely proud of his work, but some people thought it was a bit “out there”, which was often the phrase used.  He glanced over at Dean, who was clearly taking everything in.  His eyes darted to the low shelves Castiel had built and carved to hold all the jars of ingredients he used in his recipes and creations.  Other shelves and wood crates held art supplies, fabrics, and various odds and ends.  Two long tables were cluttered with various tools and wood, willow branches, ribbons, glass jars; Castiel was momentarily embarrassed by the organized chaos and turned completely into Dean’s space to gauge his reaction to the mess that was his life.

 

“Holy fuck, Cas!” Dean said incredulously, whipping his head around to lock his wide eyes directly on Castiel’s.   

 


End file.
